


I Won't Lie, I'm Willing and Able

by amsterdamned (Icewolf51)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, house hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icewolf51/pseuds/amsterdamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is looking for a house after a bad breakup. Eames is his Realtor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Lie, I'm Willing and Able

**Author's Note:**

> This erupted from an absolutely ridiculous obsession with HGTV and House Hunters, and what can I say, these boys are ridiculous, so it sort of works. Title taken from Crash Kings, '14 Arms'.

1.  
“Eames,” says Eames, thrusting out his hand to the space between him and Arthur. “We spoke on the phone.”  
Arthur blinks before clearing his throat and meeting Eames’s warm hand in the middle with his own, shaking firmly. “Yes, we certainly did.”  
Eames smiles warmly, not even flinching at Arthur’s lack of expression. “I went over your wish-list and this house covers almost everything on it.”  
Arthur narrows his eyes, gaze travelling from the gravel driveway under his feet up to the tan house in front of him, short and wide. “We’ll see.”  
And they do see something.  
Arthur wants three bedrooms and at least two bathrooms, because apparently even though he’s living alone and definitely does not have or want children, he has a large family. He wants a fireplace. He wants an open concept kitchen. He wants, he wants, he wants.  
And so they definitely see something.  
The house and the bed and bath meet requirements, but there’s no fireplace. Arthur scowls at a wide, blank wall and Eames grimaces quietly behind him.  
“Dealbreaker,” Arthur announces, and walks briskly out.  
Eames runs to catch up and Arthur turns around just before his car, arms crossed over his wonderful Westwood suit.  
“Everything on my wishlist, Mr. Eames. Everything. Be ready in two days with another house. Text me with the location and the time. I’ll see you then.”  
Eames has to take a deep breath as he watches Arthur speed away in his black Volkswagen. This is going to be tough.

2.  
Arthur pulls up and shakes Eames’s hand again, which Eames definitely does not expect. Arthur doesn’t seem like the type to waste time on trivial gestures such as hand shaking. But even so, Arthur asks him how he is before running his hand over his pomade slicked hair and marching up the front door of the house.  
There is absolutely no curb appeal, but curb appeal wasn’t on Arthur’s list, and he isn’t walking away yet. They enter straight into a living space and Arthur just nods and glances around as Eames describes the character features of the house, the moldings, the hardwood floor, the doorway. Arthur just runs two fingers over the brick fireplace and lets his mouth twitch a little bit. Eames’s mouth does the same, knowing he’s succeeded on that front.  
The kitchen is not upgraded, but it is open concept. Arthur says nothing.  
The rest of the house is very, very average, but it’s an acceptable price and Arthur wants nothing to do with it.  
“More modern,” he instructs Eames, and this time even looks back at the house once before walking away and getting in his car. Eames figures it might take a while, but at least they’re getting somewhere.

5.  
Two houses later, both of which were unsatisfactory, Eames is leaning against the railing of the front porch of a town house in the suburbs. A cigarette hangs loosely out of his mouth and his watch sits on his wrist, his eyes glued to it. Arthur is a half an hour late. He’s never been later than the second ring on a phone call. His replies to Eames’s text messages come in nearly before Eames’s. He’s starting to get worried.  
Fifteen minutes later, he’s about to call with concern when Arthur’s sleek black car pulls up and he scrambles out, jogging up to Eames.  
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes breathlessly, looking guilty and flustered. Upon closer inspection, his eyes are bloodshot and he keeps sniffling and wiping his nose. Eames becomes flustered at Arthur’s flusteredness.  
“No, it’s no problem,” he reassures, cursing himself internally. “Come on in, come on.”  
Arthur follows Eames into the Great Room quietly, sitting when Eames gestures for him to sit and staring at the fireplace on the far wall while Eames runs to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When he returns, Arthur has considerably straightened himself out, leaving Eames wondering how that even happened considering he left the other man by himself for about half a minute. He hands him the glass of water anyway and sits in the armchair opposite him.  
Arthur takes a long sip and then rests it on his knee for lack of coffee table. Eames waits a minute before starting.  
“Are you alright?” Eames asks, leaning forward slightly.  
Arthur’s nose twitches. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can we just... can we just talk about the house?”  
Eames nods, straightening his back. “As you can see, there’s a fireplace, an open kitchen, and five bedrooms. Big enough for you?”  
A small smile spreads across Arthur’s face. “I suppose.”  
“Would you like to see them?”  
“If I must.”  
Eames shows Arthur the house. Arthur doesn’t like it.  
The difference is, he stops Eames to tell him why this time.  
“The beginning of the house is the best part,” he explains. “It just goes downhill from there.”  
As a realtor, Eames has heard this before and he still doesn’t entirely know what it means. Regardless, he pats Arthur on the back who smiles gratefully before getting into his car again speeding away, once again.  
Eames sighs as heavily as possible and closes his eyes. Arthur will be a tough case.

7.  
Arthur will love this house. Eames knows it.  
It’s just a shame he doesn’t show up.

7 (again).  
Eames can tell Arthur is very distracted. His eyes are glazed over as he skims the house and doesn’t even comment on the fact that there’s only one bathroom. Eames doesn’t let him leave without sitting him down again and handing him another glass of water which Arthur doesn’t drink.  
Eames has never been good at comforting, but he gives it a shot because he knows Arthur needs it.  
“Why are you looking for a new house?” Eames asks, not really sure where he’s going with this.  
Arthur’s fingers twitch around his glass. “Because I need somewhere to live.”  
Eames rolls his mind’s eye so hard that he loses his train of thought. “Where were you living before, then?”  
“With my boyfriend.” He takes a long pause. “We broke up.”  
“Ah,” Eames coughs out, not expecting this outright confession. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”  
“No big deal,” Arthur says, but his eyes betray him. Eames can see them watering up slightly.  
“I will find the perfect house for you,” Eames says, trying to make his expression as intense as possible. “I promise.”  
“You’re the third realtor I’ve tried,” Arthur says stonily, and Eames shakes his head while inwardly crying.  
“Don’t worry, Arthur. I promise.”

10.  
Arthur seems to be doing a lot better than the last couple of times Eames has seen him. He’s standing tall, smiling more often, and commenting on things as soon as he steps onto the driveway. In fact, he’s better than Eames has ever seen him before.  
They even have pleasant conversation in which Arthur’s eyes sparkle and Eames hugely appreciates the dimples etched into his face. He has to tear his sight away from them to even describe the house at all.  
It’s a nice house. It’s not perfect, but it’s nice. Eames hasn’t shown Arthur a house without a fireplace since house number one, and every single time he looks at the fireplace with loving eyes that confuse Eames more than he can bear.  
They’re in the kitchen and Eames is showing Arthur the skylight when his phone rings. He apologizes and takes the call in the other room, which lasts only about two minutes. He comes back to see-- nothing. Arthur is gone.  
“Arthur?” he calls out frantically, rushing toward the main room to see if he can catch Arthur leaving, and on his way he spots the man in the corner of his eye... lying down on the floor, between the fridge and the island, staring up at the sky through the skylight, his eyes half closed and his hands resting on his stomach.  
Arthur does not like the rest of the house. Eames files away “SKYLIGHT” in big letters in Arthur’s file. He can’t stop thinking about the sight all throughout the next day.

15.  
Eames is getting closer. He can feel it.  
He has a list of what Arthur loves. There are the necessities, but then there’s the others.  
1\. Skylights  
2\. Crown moldings  
3\. Hardwood floors  
4\. Balconies  
5\. Yard space (for the future dog)  
He is so proud of this list that he almost shows it to Arthur on multiple occasions. And for some absolutely ridiculous reason, he wants to please Arthur beyond belief. So he only shows him houses with all of these things now, requirements be damned.  
He always has the fireplace, though.  
Eames has just finished showing him house fifteen when Arthur frowns and grabs the cuff of Eames’s suit. Neither of them say anything as he rolls it up and pins it correctly, doing the same with the other sleeve.  
“You’ll ruin your suits like that. It costs more money to have them repaired than it does time to rolls up your sleeves properly.”  
Eames swallows and nods.  
Arthur likes the house.

16.  
“I have a thing,” Arthur begins.  
“A thing?”  
“A gala. I need a date. My ex boyfriend will be there.”  
“I am in the service of providing you houses, not escorts.”  
“I was hoping you would come with me. As my date.”  
Eames attempts to keep his emotions from running wild in his head and fails miserably. A date. With Arthur?  
“Um...”  
“You don’t have to say yes. It’s just a favor, as a friend, you know?”  
To make the ex jealous.  
“Oh.” Eames’s heart sinks. “Sure.”

\--  
Eames spots one of his old clients at the gala and goes over to strike up a conversation while Arthur is getting them drinks.  
Eames realizes that he’s been talking to Robert Fischer for a considerable amount of time and Arthur hasn’t returned. He looks around and sees Arthur with a young woman hanging on his arm, sending him and Robert a scowl every couple of seconds. Eames excuses himself and wishes Robert a good night.  
Arthur thrusts Eames’s drink into his hand when he returns. The woman who was hanging onto him is now hanging onto the arm of another man a couple of feet away. Arthur glares at Eames menacingly.  
“Something wrong, darling?” Eames asks, blinking as the champagne drips onto his fingers.  
“That was him. My ex. That you were just talking to,” Arthur explains, and he sounds livid.  
Eames’s eyes widen. “Robert?”  
Arthur sneers. “Yeah.” His expression drops though as Eames’s turns apologetic.  
“I’m sorry, I had no idea. I sold him a house about three years ago.”  
Arthur lets out a long breath of air. “Right.”  
He barely says anything for the rest of the night.

18.  
Arthur’s not even looking at the houses much anymore. He’s drifted back into that state he was in at the beginning where he just sort of glazes over things. All things except Eames, of course. His eyes for Eames have grown even larger, and Eames doesn’t really know what to make of this.  
He thinks Arthur is one of the most attractive men he’s ever met, knows all of Arthur’s tastes (when it comes to houses, at least), would love to snog him senseless, and knows exactly what Arthur’s reactions mean when it comes to literally anything.  
Except when it comes to Eames.  
Arthur leaves the house disappointed, as always. Eames doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to follow through on his promise.

21.  
This feels like one of the last houses in existence. Arthur is displeased.  
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Eames exclaims loudly in the walk in closet of a master bedroom that might as well be on Park Place. “Tell me what you want from me.”  
Eames thinks Arthur might walk out on him. He thinks that Arthur might punch him, the way his jaw is twitching like that. He thinks that Arthur might cry.  
Instead, Arthur shoves Eames against the built in shelving and looks earnestly at him before kissing him and running his tongue along Eames’s jaw. Eames lets out a moan, hands reaching around to Arthur’s back, whispers, mind racing, “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”  
Eyes closed, Arthur pulls back and breathes heavily until Eames runs a hand over his face, thumb curling up against his cheekbone and Arthur says, “I like the house we looked at where I rolled up your cuff sleeves, and I just kept asking you to show me houses because I’m in love with you.”  
Eames nods. He struggles with words, not knowing how to respond from a romantic standpoint. “Do you want to make an offer?”  
“Starting bid of $850,000 and also move in with me please.” Arthur presses another kiss to Eames’s lips, blunt fingertips sliding over Eames’s neck.  
“You might want to start a bit lower... $790,000 and how about a date first?”  
Arthur tugs at Eames’s hair as he closes his eyes and licks his way into Eames’s mouth which Eames assumes is a wholehearted concession.


End file.
